


imprévu

by bennyfanks



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bi Grantaire, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Life As We Know It AU, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Courfeyrac, Trans Enjolras, Two Gays and a Baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyfanks/pseuds/bennyfanks
Summary: Enjolras couldn't stand Grantaire. But he was unavoidable.When tragedy strikes, they must come together to help pick up the broken pieces and raise an orphaned child.(Life As We Know It AU)





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not that he liked being alone, but he did  _ want _ to be alone. And there is a distinction. Wanting companionship was, after all, only human nature. And while he hated being alone, he sure didn’t enjoy being with others either. So as he combed his hair and put it in a neat ponytail, he cursed himself for ever letting Combeferre talk him into a date with one of his boyfriend’s friends.  _ Trust me on this, Enjolras.  _ He could hear Combeferre’s voice ringing in his head as he buttoned up his shirt.  _ He’s a nice guy from what Courf has said. He’s an artist. I’m sure you two will get along swimmingly.  _ Enjolras huffed and gave himself one more glance-over in the mirror, adjusting some wrinkles and stray hairs, before going and collapsing on his sofa. He checked his watch. 7:45. His mystery artist man would be there in about 15 minutes to pick him up. All he had to do was wait and mentally curse his best friend.

After a good 45 minutes of absently scrolling through his phone, there was finally a knock at his apartment door. He sprung up from his seat and straightened out his clothes before unlatching and opening the door to reveal… a rather scruffy looking guy. He had dark, wild curls barely contained by his forest green beanie. His eyes were a deep brown, underlined by equally deep bags. By the looks of his face, it seemed that he hadn’t bothered to shave. Lovely.

“Hey there, you must be Alexandre,” he said casually, leaning against the doorframe.

Enjolras put on a fake smile for this guy. After all he was super late and had arrived obviously not caring too much. “Yes, you’re Antoine I take it?”

“Grantaire, actually.” The man shrugged.

“What’s that?”

“Grantaire, it’s my last name. S’what everyone calls me.”

“I… see. Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Enjolras said with a dry smile.

“Oh, yeah, sorry for the delay. My bike wouldn’t start,” the scruffy man explained.

“Your… bike.”

“Yeah, my motorcycle,” he said, pointing his thumb down to the street. “I rode her here.”

“Well, uh…” Enjolras looked down at himself. “I’m not exactly dressed for a motorcycle ride… I could drive, though.”

“Oh, yeah, er, no problem,” Grantaire said, waving his hand dismissively. “...So, should we go now?” 

Enjolras finally remembered that  _ oh yeah, this guy was here to take you out to dinner… in a leather jacket in blue jeans. _ He stepped out of the threshold, fished his keys out of his pocket, and locked up before leading Grantaire to where his car was parked. The walk there took a little bit, so to avoid awkward silence, he decided the best course of action was to try to make some small talk.

“So, how long have you known Courfeyrac for?” he asked, looking over at his date who was strolling rather nonchalantly, hands in his pockets.

“Uh… since high school, I think,” Grantaire responded. “What about you? When’d you meet Combeferre?

“In university. We were roommates. Anyway, here’s me,” he said, gesturing to the rundown old red car in front of them. He unlocked the doors with his clicker and hopped in, Grantaire shortly following suit.

“Alright,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “Where to?”

“Well… wherever you made reservations. You did make them, right?” By the look on Grantaire’s face, he could tell that he indeed had not made any.

“Sorry,” he said meekly. “But we can go wherever you want. Just pick anywhere, I have no complaints.

Enjolras tried not to look too annoyed as he started his car. “No problem. Let’s just go--”

He was cut off short by the sound of Grantaire’s phone ringing.  _ Crank That _ by Soulja Boy as his ringtone. How charming.

“Oh, uh, sorry, let me take this real quick,” he apologized, slipping his phone out of his pocket and answering. “Hey there,” he said to whoever was on the other line. “Oh, nothing really. Yeah, sure. 11 work? All right. Meet you there. See ya.” He pressed the end call button and looked over at his date, who was very much not pleased. “Work friend,” he offered as a weak excuse. “Wanted to do some… work stuff.”

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” Enjolras snapped. “Let’s be honest here, we both know we don’t like each other. We’re only doing this to please our friends. But, to be fair, they went through the trouble of setting this up, so we at least owe them-”

“Owe them what? Spending a few hours struggling through small talk?”

“Fine then, let’s just not. You can go meet up with your ‘work friend,’ and I can go have a peaceful rest of my night by myself.”

“Sounds great,” Grantaire sneered, getting out of the car. Enjolras stopped the car and followed.

“I have no clue what they were thinking setting this up,” Enjolras huffed, storming back towards his apartment.

“Trust me, me either,” he heard Grantaire chuckle behind him before starting his bike and driving off.

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras pulled out his phone and called Combeferre. “My God, Combeferre. The only way you can make this up to me is if you promise I never have to see him again.”

* * *

 

Of course, Enjolras did have to see him again. After all, he was one of Courfeyrac’s best friends. He was unavoidable. He was  _ everywhere _ . Whenever he was at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s shared apartment, there he was on their couch, drinking a beer. When Enjolras stood up to give a speech at the couple’s engagement party, there he was at the next table, openly flirting with the poor girl next to him. When he agreed to be Combeferre’s best man, there he was to announce to the room that he would be Courfeyrac’s. At the couple’s Christmas party, Combeferre had invited one of his friends from work to attend the party with Enjolras. And by nature, there Grantaire was to bug him while he tried to make awkward small talk with Combeferre’s boring colleague. When Courfeyrac and Combeferre revealed to him that they were expecting, he graciously agreed to be the child’s godfather… only to discover that Grantaire would be the other godfather. There was just no escaping him.

Nearly three years after their disastrous attempt at a date, when Combeferre promised that he wouldn’t have to see Grantaire again, Enjolras and Grantaire stood at the doorstep of the couple’s new house together. Neither said a word, only exchanged passive-aggressive smiles, before Courfeyrac opened the door with baby Gavroche in his arm.

“Hey you two,” he greeted with a gap-toothed smile, stepping aside to let them in. “Thanks for coming!”

“I wouldn’t miss my nephew’s birthday for the entire world,” Enjolras said, hugging Courf and planting a kiss on Gavroche’s cheek, earning a little squeal. “Happy birthday, petit,” he crooned before heading on into the kitchen where Combeferre looked stressed about something. He hardly even noticed Enjolras enter the kitchen. He just mumbled to himself while studying a recipe in front of him. “You seem like you need help.” Enjolras said, sliding next to him and looking at the recipe over his shoulder. Combeferre hummed and handed him a whisk and a bowl. “Four eggs, please,” he requested before moving onto another bowl where he began to cream butter and sugar. Enjolras complied, cracking and beating four eggs.

“You know, grocery stores sell perfectly good birthday cakes,” he joked, leaning on the counter next to Combeferre. He just sighed, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah, I know, but Courf insisted on a homemade cake. It’s not like Gavroche will remember if his fathers got him a grocery store cake or made him one from scratch for his first birthday.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He might remember it if the cake were particularly bad.” This earned Enjolras a light smack on the shoulder. He just chuckled and added the beaten eggs to the creamed butter-sugar mixture. “I’m only teasing, mon ami. I think it’s sweet. You two work very hard to ensure that Gavroche is happy. You’re truly amazing parents.” Combeferre looked up at Enjolras, smiling softly. “Well, we try,” he said humbly. “Now, can you combine the dry ingredients for me?”

* * *

 

The cake, while it made a huge mess in the kitchen, turned out fine. The party went fine, with only minimal bickering between Enjolras and Grantaire. It finally came time to bring the cake out and sing to Gavroche, who didn’t really understand the whole birthday cake thing, but he really did enjoy smashing it all over his face.

“Alexandre, Grantaire, come take a picture with the birthday boy!” Courfeyrac called, phone in hand. As they squatted down next to the highchair, little Gavroche patted each of their cheeks with his chocolate frosting covered hands. “Hey man!” Grantaire exclaimed, chuckling and wiping it off with his filthy shirtsleeve. Enjolras couldn’t help but just laugh. He could scold him for being gross later, but now all that mattered was his nephew. He held Gavroche’s little wrist while he kissed him on the cheek for a picture. He used to dislike having others around to bother him, but he didn’t mind so much anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! this is one of my absolute fave movies and after seeing a prompt based on it, i had to write this.  
> i plan to make this into a full series, so if u liked please let me know! praise gives me the strength to go on


	2. Chapter 2

Everything changed in an instant.

One second Enjolras was home, sitting on the couch with his cat in his lap and a book in hand.

The next he was running into the police station in a blind panic.

The officer on the phone had only told him that there had been an “emergency” and he was needed at the station.

An “emergency?” What was that supposed to mean? What sort of emergency could concern him? His mind raced with the possibilities.

His head was pounding as he reached the front desk of the station. “I need to see Officer Javert,” he demanded, out of breath from both running and panic. He vaguely remembered being lead through cold hallways, his heart pounding. Next thing he knew, he was sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair next to the desk of a police officer.

* * *

 

“...In Mr. Combeferre’s wallet we found an insurance card listing you as an emergency contact. I’m terribly sorry to have to break this news to you, miss.”

Enjolras sat with his elbows on his knees, cradling his head. He stared at the floor, too in shock to even bother trying to correct the officer. There was no way they were dead, he thought, mind racing. This was all some elaborate joke set up by Courfeyrac. Except it wasn’t funny at all.

“Would you be able to give us contact information for the next-of-kin?” Officer Javert asked.

“Um…” Enjolras mumbled weakly. “Mr. Courfeyrac’s father, uh….” Suddenly a thought hit him. He shot straight up in his chair and looked at the officer, panicked. “Gavroche.”

“Pardon?”

“Gavroche, they… they have a baby son, Gavroche. Was he in the car?” 

The officer shook his head. “The infant was in the care of a minor at the couple’s home. The officers on the scene placed him with CPS for the night.” Enjolras nodded, just relieved that Gavroche was safe in all this mess.

* * *

 

There was never a moment in time that Enjolras  _ wanted _ to see Grantaire. But now? He  _ needed _ him.

Enjolras was standing in the lobby, leaning against a wall and staring into space when Grantaire burst into the lobby, motorcycle helmet in hand. He regained focus and looked to him, softly calling his name. The dark haired man whipped his head around and looked at him, face twisted with worry and heartbreak. He took a tentative step towards Enjolras, who just stood there silently, face blank. After a moment of deafening silence, Grantaire stepped forward and pulled the blonde into an embrace.

Only then did he let his tears flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh hey thanks for reading pals sorry this chapter was so short and depressing. i hate to kill off my children but yknow it was for the sake of the plot ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> as always thanks so much for reading! there's a whole lot more to come kiddos just u wait


	3. Chapter 3

After their time in the police station, the two were given the keys to their friends house. Part of Enjolras didn’t want to step foot in there ever again. But he knew that if they were going to take care of Gavroche from now on, it would be best to keep him somewhere he’s familiar and comfortable with.

They decided that Enjolras would drive his car, and they’d be back for the motorcycle in the morning.  _ It’s parked in front of a police station, genius, who’s going to steal it? _ The entire ride there was silent. Neither of them really knew what to say or how. What was there to say? Hey, sorry your best friend died. Oh, I’m sorry  _ yours _ died. So, we have a baby now, how about that?

When he pulled into the driveway, he stopped the car but didn’t get out. He couldn’t bring himself to. Grantaire also stayed put, just staring forward. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just processing what their last hour had been like. The blonde took a deep breath to steady himself before finally getting out. He heard the passenger door open behind him as he trudged up to the doorstep. There, he lingered for a few seconds before opening the front door.

Stepping inside felt… eerie and wrong. This house was usually so bustling and full of life. But everything was so dark and quiet. Enjolras felt as if he was breaking into their house while they were away. In a way he was, except that they weren’t going to be coming back from being away. He stood in the foyer, looking around at all the framed pictures of the couple on vacation or holding their newborn son. He closed his eyes, wishing this was all a dream.

* * *

 

“No, no, we  _ will _ see him tonight!... Protocol? Do you think I care about  _ protocol?  _ I’m his legal guardian… I just don’t see the point of not just giving him to us now… You know what? Fine. We will be there tomorrow.” Enjolras tapped the end call button and chucked his phone on the couch next to Grantaire. He sat on the ground next to the couch and leaned against the armrest. “They won’t do  _ anything _ until 9 am tomorrow. This is ridiculous!” he huffed, hand flailing in exasperation. Grantaire sat hunched over, knees apart and hands clasped. “Listen,” he sighed. “Gavroche will be fine, okay? We’ll see him in the morning.” Enjolras wanted so badly to yell at him that no, Gavroche won’t be fine, his parents are dead. But all he did was nod and rub his face. 

Grantaire stood, offering his hand to Enjolras to help him up. “We should just get some sleep,” he said, pulling up the smaller man as he grasped his hand.

“You’re right. You go sleep in the guest room, I’ll just sleep out here on the couch,” he said softly, running his hand through his hair. “We’ll just… we’ll figure all of this out tomorrow.” 

They wished each other a goodnight before Grantaire headed upstairs to the guest bedroom. After he was gone, Enjolras laid down on the couch, facing the back of it. He shifted uncomfortably when he felt something underneath him, reaching for it to find Gavroche’s favorite teddy bear, Monsieur Fluff. He just stared at it blankly, wondering what the hell they were going to do.

* * *

 

They arrived at the CPS agency the next morning, anxious to get Gavroche and be on their way. What they were met with was almost an hour of speaking with a social worker, showing legal documents to prove their guardianship, and signing paperwork. After ages, another social worker brought a cranky Gavroche into the room, who whimpered and grabbed toward the two when he saw them. The pair immediately rushed over, Enjolras taking him from the social worker and consoling him. He planted a kiss on his little forehead and sighed.

“It’s going to be okay, mon petit,” he whispered. He knew he was lying. 

Little Gavroche turned towards Grantaire and made grabby hands at him until the man took him from Enjolras’ arms. He held the baby close against his chest and kissed the top of his head. Finally, they were able to wrap up things with their social worker and be on their way home.

* * *

 

“They didn’t think this through, did they?”

Enjolras glanced up from his laptop, where he was scrolling through countless parenting blogs and articles to try and figure out at least the fundamentals of raising a baby. “Hmm?” he hummed, writing a note about sleep schedules down in his leatherbound notebook, usually used for important business matters.  _ I guess this is important business now _ , he figured.

“I said,” Grantaire repeated, walking into the room with a beer in hand. “They didn’t think this through at all.” He sat down on the loveseat opposite him and kicked his legs up on the coffee table. “Sure, it was a nice gesture making us the godparents and all, but I really don’t think either of us are ready for this.”

Enjolras scoffed and set his laptop to the side. “Of course we’re not ready for this. It’s not like Combeferre and Courfeyrac  _ planned  _ this,” he snapped. “They named us his godparents because they trusted us if something bad happened. And guess what? Something bad did happen, Grantaire. And now it’s time for us to take on the responsibility.” His tears were now on the verge of spilling over. He quickly rubbed his face and pulled his computer back into his lap. Grantaire said nothing, just looked at the floor and drank his beer.

After a few minutes, Enjolras finally spoke up.

“Look,” he said, voice much softer now, “I know you’re not ready for this.  _ We’re _ not ready for this. But we can’t give up on Gavroche. He needs us more than ever. He may not understand what’s happening, but it’s important that we give him a normal, stable life.”

A cry came from upstairs. Enjolras sighed and set his laptop aside once more to go get him out of his crib, but before he could get up, Grantaire had already sprung out of his seat and headed upstairs. Shortly, he came back down holding a sniffling Gavroche against his chest. He slowly sat down and begun to rock him and rub his back. Enjolras just sat in silence, reading some blog about the pros of homemade baby food.

“I know I’ll never be as good a father as they were,” Grantaire whispered, and Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was to the baby, to him, or to no one. “But I’ll try my best.” The blonde just smiled to himself. Maybe things would be okay for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i had a rlly great time writing this chapter! i feel like im most productive at 2am oops i should really get to sleep.  
> thanks so much for reading! <3


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